


Portraits and Parseltongue

by NestingHedwig_aka_LinW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, hurt/comfort. (Thomas Riddle is not the Dark Lord and Harry was raised by his parents, non-con, so this story does not follow cannon and many of the characters are OC.)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestingHedwig_aka_LinW/pseuds/NestingHedwig_aka_LinW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wizard's obsession threatens Harry and Severus.<br/>Written for the "Snarry-a-Thon 2014 - Love looks not with the eyes, but with the heart" to the Prompt: "To have [him] here in bed with me, breathing on me, [his] hair in my mouth — I count that something of a miracle." - Henry Miller</p>
            </blockquote>





	Portraits and Parseltongue

**Disclaimer:** The story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended; no monetary gain will be made from this story.

Indicates /Parseltongue/

*~*~*~*~*~*  
 **Portraits and Parseltongue**

"To have him here in bed with me,  
breathing on me,  
his hair in my mouth -  
I count that something of a miracle."  
\- Henry Miller  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
A low drone of voices and soft music enveloped Thomas M. Riddle as he entered the ballroom for the Ministry of Magic's Annual Yule Ball. The large room glittered with soft candlelight. Fairy lights and ribbons wrapped the tasteful evergreen garlands. He was pleased to see that the decor was staunchly traditional in nature, none of the garish rubbish that seemed to be infesting much of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Had he been met with blatant Muggle Christmas decor, especially that of a fat man in a red suit, he would have voiced his disapproval and immediately left the fete.

As a half-blood, he had no issue with Muggle-borns and half-bloods who assimilated into traditional Wizarding society, and he also shared many, but not all, of the goals of the pure-blood supremacists. He did, however, resent those who continued to water down centuries of knowledge and culture, to make Light-minded Mudbloods feel more comfortable in their new world. 

The wizard joined a short queue for the open bar, scanning the room for persons of interest. Thomas didn't usually attend public gatherings, but periodically he had to socialize, strengthening his personal and political connections. He recognized some Ministry and Wizengamot members, some political associates, and some former students in the crowd. Most of the attendees were of no significance to him at all.

As he was waiting for his single malt Scotch, his attention was captured by a soft-spoken male voice requesting a list of wines available. Thomas noted the impeccable cut of the fine deep green brocade robes and the presence of two heir rings. There was no wedding band. Long dark wavy hair tumbled loosely over the younger man's shoulders, ending at the middle of his back. Another traditionalist, he thought, wearing the long hair designating an ancient if not noble house.

Thomas glanced at the young man's attractive, slightly heart-shaped face. He had the most astonishing emerald green eyes, partially hidden behind thin metal spectacles. When their eyes met, the dark wizard nodded his head in casual greeting, and accepted his glass of Scotch from the witch behind the bar. The other wizard collected four wineglasses - a mixture of vintages, judging by the color of the liquids.

Thomas stepped away from the bar and casually made his way through the room, idly swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His gaze occasionally followed the young wizard in the green robes. From the way key pure-bloods and politicians stopped to converse with him, the green-eyed wizard was not only attractive, he was someone important.

Interest piqued, he watched the graceful movement of the slender wizard. The lack of a wedding band made him ripe for the picking. Candlelight reflected the young man's spectacles. Those eyeglasses, Thomas thought, would be the first thing to go when he made the man his. But first, he had to find out more about the man.

"Thomas Riddle, is that you?"

Thomas turned to his left and looked down into the aged, round face of Horace Slughorn, his former Potions professor. He remembered the exclusive "Slug Club" of his youth and the old man's habit of collecting influential "friends."

Serendipity, the dark wizard thought as he smiled pleasantly at the elderly wizard. The man was irritating, but he did have his uses. He let Slughorn prattle on, gleaning bits of information from the old man's gossip. While still keeping an eye on his green-eyed prey, Thomas would casually mention a witch or wizard in the room and half listen to the resulting comments.

The young wizard suddenly smiled and his green eyes glittered. He stepped away from the pair of witches he had been speaking with and began to stride forward. He was met by a taller, older wizard in elegant black robes and straight black hair caught in a ponytail that fell down to his hips. The pair shared a quick kiss on the lips before rejoining the two witches. The arm of the black-robed wizard wrapped possessively around the green-robed wizard's waist.

Thomas scowled. He would recognize that hawk-like profile anywhere.

"Excuse me, Professor Slughorn," Thomas interrupted the endless prattle when Slughorn paused to take a breath. "Is that Severus Snape?"

"Why, yes it is. Potions Master First Class." Slughorn's eyes twinkled. He considered Severus one of his proudest accomplishments.

"And his companion...is he a potioneer as well?" Thomas pitched his voice to sound mildly curious.

Slughorn's brow wrinkled. Severus Snape was one of the top potions masters in Europe and Asia. To refer to Snape as a potioneer was equivalent to referring to Rowena Ravenclaw as a mildly talented hedge witch.

"Harry? No, he's an artist."

"An artist?" He did not keep the displeasure from his voice. The artist probably was not politically inclined, but it was obvious his social game was excellent. That could still be of use to Thomas's aspirations.

"Don't scoff, Thomas. He's in high demand. Specializes in portraiture and does restoration on the side. He apprenticed under Vaclav Brozik in Prague."

Slughorn glanced at the dark wizard. He had noticed Thomas Riddle's interest in the young wizard. Like him, Thomas did like to collect influential associates.

"Portraits so lifelike you actually think you're talking to a living person. Have you ever sat for a portrait? You really should, you know."

Thomas looked down his nose at the shorter man. Slughorn laughed. "You are an important man, Thomas. Master in Defense and a Master in the Dark Arts. You really should commission Harry Potter to paint your portrait."

"Potter? With that bone structure, I would have guessed a Black."

"Oh, there's Black blood in there. All pure-bloods are interrelated somehow. But he's James and Lily Potter's son. You taught them both, didn't you?"

The Dark wizard's eyes turned red, making the elderly Potions professor uneasy. He knew he was forgetting something very important about Thomas, but his mind was slipping more and more each day and potions could no longer halt the decline. Looking for a way to leave the now uncomfortable situation, Slughorn spied several former Quidditch professionals entering the ballroom. He gracefully made his departure to mingle with them, leaving Thomas to his own devices.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Harry slid naked between the sheets and shared several toothpaste-fresh kisses with Severus. He pulled the older wizard into his arms, savoring the feel of warm flesh against him. Severus' cock twitched with interest as Harry slowly rocked his hips. Severus fought to stifle a yawn.

"Excuse me. It's been a long day."

"Then you just lie back and let me do all the work," Harry replied, with a little grin. He nuzzled Severus' throat. "Unless you're too tired, Old Man."

"Brat." Severus pulled the smaller man on top of him, running his hands down Harry's smooth back and arse. "Knock yourself out. I'll just lie here and think of potion ingredients."

"Who's the brat now?" He laughed and straddled his lover's narrow hips. Severus captured both of their cocks in his long fingers and began to stroke them to hardness.

Harry leaned forward to exchange kisses, his long hair tumbling over their chests. Severus spat a mouthful of hair from his mouth and brushed it away from Harry's face. Harry pulled his hair over his shoulder, spelling it into a loose braid. Tradition or not, his long hair was often a pain in the arse.

"Stop. I want you to cum in me." Harry clasped his hand over Severus' hand. The Dark wizard reached for a bottle of lubricant from their bedside table. Harry shifted his hips to give him better access, gasping softly as slender fingers breached his entrance, stretching him.

Harry slowly lowered himself on Severus's hard cock, feeling the burn as his tight channel was invaded. Severus held his hips to guide him, and waited until his companion was fully seated before he began to move. Harry thrust downward to meet him and they established a slow, steady rhythm. As their pleasure built toward completion, Severus stopped, rolled Harry beneath him, and thrust deeply. Harry's channel tightened, drawing Severus' release. He reached between their sweat-slicked bodies and stroked Harry's aching erection. The green-eyed wizard exploded against their abdomens.

After a cleaning charm, the pair settled down to sleep. Severus spooned against Harry's back, the long hair tickling his chin.

"So did you enjoy yourself tonight?" He asked.

"Fishing for compliments, Sev? You know I always enjoy making love with you."

"I meant the Yule Ball."

"I'm glad it's over. Too many people. Too many pointless conversations."

"It's good for business contacts, though. We'll both get a few commissions out of it."

"You're right," Harry agreed, sleepily. "Tonight was strange, though."

"Strange? How so?"

"I don't know. It felt like someone kept watching me." Harry yawned. "Good night, Sev."

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Harry sat on the chaise, watching Severus pack his trunk. He petted the sleek black fur of the cat on his lap, her belly stretched taut in advanced pregnancy. She purred as he scratched behind her ears, her bright yellow green eyes drifting closed in contentment.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to Prague with me? You could visit with old friends while I am attending the Potions Guild Symposium."

Harry shifted the cat off his legs, careful not to wake the sleeping feline. "I don't want to leave Citron so close to her time."

"You know that Thistle would be more than competent to watch Citron for a few days."

"Maybe I can pop over for the weekend if my schedule permits. You'll be gone a fortnight." Harry leaned back and closed his eyes. "I have eleven damaged canvases being delivered Monday from the Greengrass Estate. I don't know how extensive the damage is until I see them. Thank Merlin no one was severely injured, but three of the bedrooms suffered heavy smoke damage."

"Did they ever discover the cause?"

"Officially, it was a spark from an untended fireplace," Harry replied lightly.

"And unofficially?" Severus paused in his packing.

"Scorpius Malfoy had been sent to bed by his grandfather because of a temper tantrum and set off a burst of accidental magic in the form of a fireball that enveloped the bedding."

"Damn." Severus settled beside Harry on the chaise. "He's what...three?"

"I think so. Poor Astoria. Didn't know what she signed on for when she married my cousin." Harry smiled, thinking of Draco's precocious little boy and his long-suffering wife. 

"I also received a commission from Augusta Longbottom. Neville's finished his Herbology Mastery and she wants a portrait of him to mark the event. I have a preliminary meeting with him to discuss options. If I know Neville, his first option will be to try to opt out of the sitting altogether."

"Sounds as if you'll be too busy to miss me." Severus wrapped his arms around the slender wizard and kissed his temple. Harry shifted, dislodging a now disgruntled Citron, and pulled Severus' head down to reach his lips.

"When do you have to leave?"

"Not for several hours. The Portkey is for two."

"I'm certain we can find something to pass the time."

"Insatiable brat."

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Harry settled a medium-sized portrait of a young girl onto the easel. Since there was only a light haze of soot, he began gently brushing the surface with a soft-bristle brush. Of the eleven canvases, this one was the least damaged. Once he cleared the surface grime, he could determine his next steps.

He was deep in thought when a giggle broke through his concentration. He paused, realizing that the giggle had come from the portrait.

"My apologies, Miss. Did I tickle you?"

"No, silly. I'm a painting. You can't tickle me," the little girl replied, tossing her brunette ringlets.

Actually, you could charm a painting to react to outside stimuli, Harry thought, but since it bore no bearing on the discussion, he did not mention it.

"If I didn't tickle you, then why did you laugh?"

"You looked so serious. Why are you wearing a mask? Are you a highwayman?"

Harry pulled down the handkerchief he had tied over his nose and mouth to prevent inhaling the soot. He smiled at the little girl.

"No. Nothing as grand as a highwayman. I restore paintings. You were damaged in a fire."

"I was frightened. All the other portraits were shouting at me to leap into their frames, but I couldn't get past the edge of my canvas."

Harry made a mental note to check the charms on the portrait at a later date. She should have been able to flee.

"My name is Harry. What is yours?"

"Elizabeth Astoria Greengrass. I'm eleven."

"Oh, that is an important age for a witch." Harry smiled. "Did you get a letter for Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Elizabeth's smile faded. "I was ever so excited, but Father won't let me go. He says my health is too fragile."

Harry looked at her rosy little face and was saddened. While it was a common practice to have a portrait painted of a child, it was not a common practice to animate that portrait unless the child was dying. Had Elizabeth lived to celebrate a twelfth year, he wondered.

Citron wrapped herself around Harry's ankles, meowing loudly. Elizabeth's face lit up.

"You have a kitty? I love kitties!"

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Harry arched his back and noticed that the light had shifted in his studio. He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting it was almost time for Neville's appointment.

Citron took a few bites from her dish before curling up in her basket beside the fireplace. She was uncomfortable and she was grumpy.

A jet-black postal owl flew through the owl post portal built into one of the large paned glass windows. He held out his arm for the owl to land. The majestic bird presented the leg a letter was tied to. Carefully, Harry released the binding. Without waiting for water or treat, the owl took off, back through the portal.

Harry unfurled the letter, glancing at the signature. He didn't know a Thomas M. Riddle. He read the short note. It was a formal request for a meeting to discuss a possible commission for a portrait. The letter went on to mention Horace Slughorn as a professional reference. Since Severus always spoke kindly about the now semi-senile professor, Harry set the letter aside for a later response.

He heard footsteps approaching his studio and cast a quick charm to remove the soot from his hands and clothing.

"Hiya, Harry!" Neville's pleasant voice boomed from the doorway.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
A brisk wind rattled the partially opened studio windows causing a crisp, cold breeze to freshen the cloying air caused by the emulsion potion Harry had simmering on a low flame. Using a set of tongs, he fished out a rectangle of cotton batting and squeezed out most of the emulsion back into the cauldron. With his hands covered in thick rubberized gloves to protect his skin, Harry began to gently dab the cotton against a soot-damaged landscape in an area approximately the size of a business card. As the cotton absorbed the grime, he would fold the rectangle to a clean area and repeat the process until a brighter area of the painting was revealed. Once he was satisfied with the result, Harry disposed of the now filthy cotton batting into a battered cauldron on the floor and, using his other hand, selected another rectangle of cotton batting, dampened with a neutralizer to stop the action of the emulsion.

The heavy scent of char tickled his nose as he heard footsteps on the planked floor. Draco Malfoy strode through the studio door; it had been propped open for air circulation. He was carrying a large, flat, paper-wrapped parcel, the apparent source of the charred scent. The blond wizard stopped beside Harry's work table and peered at the restorer's work.

"Merlin, Harry," he exclaimed. "You have to do all that to save a painting?"

"Yes." Harry gave him an amused look. "What do you think I did? Wave my wand and say 'Reparo' or 'Scourgify'?"

"Well...no." A pale blush tinted his fair completion. While he realized it wasn't as simple as casting a simple household charm, he had not realized such tedious handiwork was involved. "I won't be questioning your invoice when it arrives."

Harry laughed as he removed his gloves and cast a stasis charm on the landscape as well as the emulsion and neutralizer potions. "What did you bring me?"

"I have no idea if you can do anything at all with it, but I promised Astoria I would ask..." Draco set the package on an empty easel and carefully tore the paper away, revealing the burnt remains of a painting. All of the canvas had been burned away except for the bottom right corner. Even the canvas stretchers resembled charcoal.

Harry stared at the disaster propped up on the easel and then at his cousin in puzzlement.

"I know. I know," Draco muttered, embarrassed. "Astoria says she hears kittens crying. I don't hear it."

"What did this used to be a painting of?" Harry's mind was spinning with possibilities.

"It was kind of a silly thing, but it was perfect for the nursery." Draco paused, exhaled, and closed his grey eyes. "Kittens playing in a basket of knitting. It was above the b-bed."

Harry wrapped his arm around the taller man. "I'm sure you were all terrified. Did Scorpius get burnt badly?"

Draco collapsed onto a stool. He ran his hand through his hair. 

"Everyone treats this like it's a joke...Malfoy's spoiled brat has a temper tantrum and sets his bed on fire...but if Dobby hadn't gotten him the hell out of there, he could have died.

"My father-in-law thinks we coddle Scorpius too much. He put him to bed...no kiss good night...no bedtime story...no nightlight. Scorp's only three. He's scared of the dark. He didn't want to disappoint his grandfather or be thought of as a baby, so he wished for a ball of light...but he didn't conjure a 'Lumos,' he conjured an actual ball of fire. When it burned his fingers, he dropped it right into the bedding..."

"Well, you tell Scorp his Uncle Harry is very proud of him."

Draco's head shot up.

"Well, I am," Harry continued. "He conjured his very own nightlight and he's only three. Dangerous, hell yes, but pretty damn impressive as well."

"Thank you for not laughing at us, Harry."

"You're looking at someone who turned some random Muggle's hair blue, so I understand."

"Mother and Astoria are trying to teach him how to perform a 'Lumos' with a practice wand."

"In the meantime -" Harry levitated a small box. "- give him this. It's Muggle and I don't really know how it works, but it's called a torch. You push buttons and it lights up. It's in the shape of a blue dog, so it's safe for children."

After Draco left, Harry sat in front of the devastated canvas and drank a cup of tea. It looked hopeless, but there were a few experiments he could try. It wasn't as if he could damage it further. His eyes drifted shut and, in the silence of the studio, he heard a kitten's soft cry. 

He opened his eyes. He knew the cry had not come from Citron. He had left her at home under the watchful eye of his house-elf, Thistle, because he knew the fumes from the cleaning potions would be bad for her in her gravid state. Unless the light was playing tricks with his eyes, something in that blackened scrap of canvas seemed to be moving.

Tea forgotten, Harry located a spare gesso-coated canvas. He butted the edge of the blank canvas against the edge of the blackened scrap and stood back, deep in thought.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Thomas climbed the narrow staircase to reach Harry's studio, located above the Diagon Alley branch of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Not having much use for the fine arts, he was curious to see what an artist actually did. Noticing the door was propped open, he silently approached so he could examine his prey undetected.

Harry's back was toward the door. He stood in front of the charred remains of a painting. Certainly there was no way to salvage that, Thomas thought.

Harry placed an empty canvas against the edge of the damaged one and then drew his wand. He stood frozen in front of the two canvases for several minutes before pointing his wand at the charred canvas scrap, making an almost coaxing movement with the tip of his wand. He was murmuring an incantation, but his voice was too soft to identify tangible words.

To Thomas' amazement, a black shape seemed to slowly appear on the fresh gesso. Harry's wand continued to coax the black shape until it transferred completely from its original home; Harry continued to persuade a second black lump to follow the first. After a few moments, a third and final shape moved.

"Well," Harry's voice was pitched as if praising a small child. "There you are."

As Harry removed the damaged wreckage from the easel, Thomas could see the silhouettes of two kittens and an amorphous shape that was unidentifiable. As the kitten shapes began to stretch on the clean, empty canvas, the silhouettes revealed one kitten was missing most of his tail and the other a chunk of an ear. The unidentifiable lump did not move.

"Impressive," Thomas said, finally entering the studio.

Harry spun, cursing his inattention. He had been so focused on 'rescuing' the kittens, he had left himself open to a possible attack by an unknown wizard. Severus would hand him his head if he found out Harry had been so careless.

"I apologize for startling you, Mr. Potter. You were so caught up in your work I didn't want to distract you. Thomas Riddle, at your service."

Harry gave the man a short bow, his hands pressed flat together. It was the traditional pure-blood greeting when one was uncertain of another's station. Thomas returned the greeting, pleased his intended conquest was well versed in proper Wizarding etiquette. Only Muggles, Muggle-borns and untrained half-bloods shook hands.

Harry led the well-dressed older man away from his cluttered work area toward a conversation area. His eyes were drawn to the large heir ring the man wore on his left hand. He could tell it was an ancient artifact by the style of the simple gold mounting holding a crudely carved stone.

"It is the Gaunt family ring." Thomas acknowledged the other man's interest. He liked how perceptive the young man was. Maybe it was the boy's artistic training or perhaps it was a knowledge of history, but he was obviously aware of the significance of the heirloom. "I am unfortunately the last of the line."

"And Gaunt descended from Slytherin, so perhaps you are the last of the line there, as well."

"Someone did not sleep through the History of Magic, or is Binns no longer teaching?"

"Don't assume that Hogwarts is the only school of magic in the world."

"You didn't attend Hogwarts? I thought all good little Light wizards went there."

"I earned my O.W.L.s at Hogwarts, but they did not teach the lessons I required for my future, so I left after fifth year and apprenticed in Prague."

"So you have no N.E.W.T.s?"

"I didn't say that." Harry's eyes flickered to meet Thomas' eyes and focused slightly to the left, not making direct contact. Living with a master Occulmens had taught him to never look a stranger straight in the eye. "There is much more to Wizarding portraiture and art restoration than canvas and pigment. I independently sat both the British and the Eastern European N.E.W.T.s"

"So perhaps not a good little Light wizard after all. Developed a few shades of grey, have you?"

Harry was cautiously amused by the direction of Riddle's conversation. The man had an agenda beyond sitting for a portrait, that much was certain.

"I am afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, Mr. Riddle. Your letter mentioned you were an acquaintance of Professor Slughorn. Are you a potions master as well?"

"I do occasionally dabble at brewing, but my specialty is Defense as well as Dark Arts. I have only recently returned to British soil. I have spent the greater part of the last decade studying the magic of indigenous cultures in the North and South Americas. I hope to compile my research into a series of books and then possibly return to teaching. 

"I actually taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts for several years. In fact, I taught both your mother and your father. Your mother was impressive for a Muggle-born. Please send them my good wishes."

"Thank you. I will let them know that I have met you when I next speak with them." He was not about to admit he'd been estranged from both of his parents since accepting his apprenticeship. His mother, at least, occasionally owled. Harry glanced at the clock above the fireplace mantle. "May I offer you some tea? Then we can discuss what you might be looking for in a portrait." 

Thomas settled back in the chair while Harry made arrangements with Thistle for the tea. The Dark wizard examined three portraits in various stages of completion. This was Harry's own work, and he had to admit Horace had not exaggerated the artist's skill. Harry would be much more than just an attractive ornament on his arm. He licked his lower lip and thought of that tantalizing body naked at his feet.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Harry watched Thomas as he examined his three current portraits. Griselda Marchbanks' portrait was complete. It was just waiting for the final application of spells before he put her in stasis. It would be presented to the Marchbanks family in two weeks to celebrate Griselda's anticipated retirement from the Ministry.

The half-finished portrait of the Irish Quidditch great Aiden Lynch was on hold. Lynch was currently in training in Spain for the next Quidditch season. Harry wondered if he would ever get the man to sit still long enough to get it finished. But Lynch had already paid Harry for his work, so it wouldn't cost anything except storage space.

And the third was the preliminary sketch for Neville's portrait. His friend was gathering plant samples for Harry to paint into his imaginary greenhouse.

Thistle popped in with the tea service and a brief update on Citron. Sadly, still no kittens. 

Noticing Thomas' attention had returned to the commission guidelines, Harry set about serving the tea. As Harry handed Thomas his cup and saucer, he noticed the man's normally green eyes flash red. Harry wondered what could have possibly triggered that reaction.

"Biscuit?" Harry asked, holding out a plate of assorted confections.

"No, thank you." Thomas sipped his tea. "That is a very unusual bracelet. An ouroboros, if I am not mistaken. May I see it?”

Harry pulled back his sleeve slowly and held up his left hand, displaying the antique gold band permanently anchored around his wrist.

"It's my bonding bracelet. It has been in the Prince family for generations." Harry noted that the eyes flashed red once again. "If you taught my parents, then you taught my husband as well. Severus Snape."

"Yes, I remember Severus quite well. At one point he used to refer to himself as the Half-Blood Prince. I do hope he has outgrown that nonsense." Thomas set down the tea cup. "What an adorable little boy he was. All that anger and no effective way to express it."

There was a smile on Thomas' face, but it was a facade. He was making Harry very uneasy. He would definitely be having a conversation about Thomas Riddle with Severus.

Instead of reaching for a biscuit, Thomas reached over and clasped Harry's hand. He ran his finger over the texture of the bracelet. Harry froze at this invasion of his personal space.

"Very beautiful detail in the carving of the serpent. Do you like snakes?"

"I like them very much." Harry pulled his hand away from the wizard.

"Of course you do. You married a Slytherin, didn't you? Do you also like the real thing?"

"I find snakes to be fascinating."

"Do you, now. Most people are frightened by them." Thomas stood up. His anger at not having realized Harry was in a bonded relationship was forcefully pulled beneath his surface of calm. "I have a snake I would like to use in my portrait. I will bring her with me the next time I come so you can see if she's suitable."

"Is she your familiar?"

"No. She's a handy source of potion ingredients." Thomas nodded his head and strode through the door. Harry heard the sharp crack of Apparation moments later.

"Definitely need to talk to Sev about that wizard." 

He was charming on the surface, but he was hiding something. And those red eyes were unnerving. Dark Arts practitioners always submerged themselves in some fairly obscure magics, so perhaps the red eyes were a manifestation of that.

Harry drew his wand, closing and locking the door to the studio. He added a protective ward to it and then exhaled to calm himself. He wondered if he was overreacting and decided he did not care. There was nothing wrong with a healthy dose of paranoia.

Refilling his cup and selecting a lemon thin, Harry returned to the salvage project. He grinned as he watched the silhouetted kittens chase one another around the edge of the canvas, leaving a trail of murky soot.

"Silly little beasties. Even if I can restore you, what am I going to do with you? You don't have a home to go back to."

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Finally having a short break between back-to-back meetings and demonstrations, Severus pulled the hood of his heavy winter cloak tighter to his neck as he window-shopped in the Czech Wizarding district. Harry had provided him a list of shop names he knew Severus would enjoy, but his rudimentary knowledge of the language made it difficult to locate them. If Harry came that weekend as planned, he could show Severus the sights himself. Without a companion to share his discoveries, sightseeing was a little dull.

Severus peered in the window of an estate jewelry and antiques shop. In a jumbled display of rings and brooches, the potions master spied a cloak pin in the shape of an owl in flight. Harry wasn't much for flashy jewelry, but he did enjoy old and unusual pieces.

Severus and the shopkeeper bartered for the piece using a shared knowledge of German. Carefully inspecting the owl brooch for damage and malicious charms, the Dark wizard finally agreed on the price. Placing the piece in a velvet-lined leather box, he slipped it into a secure pocket within his robes and returned to the hotel in time for still another meeting.

Perhaps it was a good thing Harry had not accompanied him this year. With the agenda as tightly packed as it was, they would have been unable to spend much time together. He was glad the Potions Guild only held their symposium every five years. He was both mentally and physically drained and there was still another week to go.

As he settled into his large, empty bed for the night, he found himself missing his partner. He even missed waking up with a mouth full of hair.

Romantic sod, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Crimson eyes glowing malevolently, Thomas stalked down the hall of Riddle Manor. What had possessed the beautiful and intelligent Harry Potter to bond himself to someone so plain and unsociable? Severus Snape was extremely intelligent, Thomas had to admit, so perhaps their compatibility lay there.

Thomas examined himself critically in the hall mirror. He always paid attention to his appearance and knew he looked to be half his own age. 

There couldn't possibly be any sexual chemistry between Snape and Potter, could there? In a comparison between himself and that black crow, there was no way Harry wouldn't choose him. And it wouldn't matter, anyway. Harry would be his even if he had to make him a widower first. He would not be denied his prize.

And as he closed the door to his bedchamber, a fifteen-foot snake quietly came out of hiding.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Harry set aside the final of four canvases he had stretched onto frames. Putting on an apron to protect himself from splatter, he began to apply his freshly made gesso to the taut linen rectangles.

Behind him, he could hear Elizabeth singing along to the Wizarding Wireless. What a three-hundred-year-old portrait and the Weird Sisters had in common he didn't know, just that it helped to fill the silence as he waited for Thomas Riddle to arrive for his first sitting. Too bad Elizabeth wasn't a living, breathing witch. He was not looking forward to being alone with the Dark wizard.

Elizabeth suddenly went silent. Harry drew his wand reflexively and faced the door. Thomas strode in, followed by a nearly full-grown reticulated python. Once the snake cleared the doorway, the older wizard shut the door behind them.

Citron hissed from her basket, attracting the attention of the python. The python moved toward the cat, but Harry moved faster. He tapped the snake sharply on the snout.

/Don't you dare,/ he hissed. /You will not hunt her. Do you understand?/

/Yessss, Speaker./ The python flicked her tongue toward the reclining cat.

/Her belly is full of young and she is near her time. You will not frighten her./

/And when her eggs are hatched, you will use them in potions?/

Harry recoiled at the notion of dissecting infant kittens and then remembered Thomas referred to the snake not as a pet, or a familiar, but as a 'handy source of potion ingredients'.

/Of course not. They will stay with Citron until they are weaned and then I will find good homes for them./

Concealing his shock, Thomas joined them, nudging the python away none-too-gently with his boot. "You are a speaker of Parseltongue. No wonder Nagini did not frighten you."

/Nagini, it is warmer by the fire. The cold must be very difficult for you./

Nagini looked from the kind speaker to her master and then undulated toward the promised warmth of the hearth. Citron settled back into her basket, a wary eye on the large predator.

"My little Light wizard is full of surprises." Thomas smirked. "What else are you hiding? Fay blood?"

"A bit of a surprise, perhaps, but also not a secret. The Potters are direct descendants from the Peverell line - who were known for Beast speaking and Parseltongue. Beast speaking has pretty much died out, but Parseltongue has been known to skip through the generations." Harry motioned for Thomas to take a seat in a brightly lit corner behind a blank canvas and a palette of oil pigments. "And you speak Parseltongue as well."

"As a matter of fact, I do. But what made you think that I could?"

"The stone in your Gaunt family ring is of Peverell origin and the Slytherin line also possessed a talent for Parseltongue." Harry perched on a stool by the canvas. He knew he was coming across as an insufferable know-it-all, but he really didn't care what Riddle thought. "My father and grandfather made me study the Noble and Lesser Houses as soon as I learned to read. Before I left for Hogwarts I could understand the interrelationships between families. If a family line crossed too often with another, it is a sign of interbreeding. Interbreeding leads to a weakening of both family lines and family magics. If you are aware of the weakness, it can be carefully bred out of a line through careful marriage choices.

"Did you know there has never been a Squib born into the Potter family? My father knew at the age of eleven he had to marry a Muggle-born or a half-blood to strengthen the family lines."

It all made sense now, Thomas thought. The Gaunts were so interbred by the time his mother and uncle were born, they were insane or were near Squibs. His grandfather had rejected his mother for sullying the Gaunt line, when in fact she had saved it by marrying his damned Muggle father. He was certainly not a Squib.

"Enough of the history lessons. How did you want to pose for your portrait? I had thought to drape your snake around your shoulders, but now that I have met your magnificent Nagini, I realize that she is too large for you to hold comfortably for long stretches of time."

In the end, Thomas decided not to share his official portrait with Nagini. He decided to sit with a thick tome in his lap and would bring additional props from his travels for his next sitting. 

Because Harry was just washing in the general placement of light and shadow as well as the figure's proportions, he kept Thomas occupied by asking questions about the man's 'new world' travels and the differences in the magic of the North and South Americas. By stroking the Dark wizard's ego, Harry was able to keep the conversation out of personal territory. Thomas seemed to be developing a fixation with him that Harry did not want to encourage.

After the sitting stretched for a little over two hours, Harry became distracted by stressed sounds coming from Citron. He quickly realized that she was in labor.

"Why don't you stretch your legs and get something to eat. I'm too anxious about Citron to properly concentrate." Harry could sense Thomas thought the laboring cat was a grave imposition, but Citron was the first courting gift he had received from Severus and she was very special. "Nagini's fine where she is. Makes no sense to send her out into the snow."

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Two tiny kittens were nursing as Citron licked at a non-responsive third kitten. When her fourth and final kitten slid from the birth canal, she pushed the still kitten away and began to clean up the new kitten.

Harry gently picked up the limp black bundle - a boy, he noticed - and began to vigorously rub the tiny body with a corner of the toweling.

"Oh, Citron. I think we have a bad one," he murmured distractedly as he blew short puffs of air into the quiescent kitten's mouth. Nagini, drawn by the activity, watched avidly as Harry struggled to revive the kitten.

"It's gone," Thomas said coldly. "Just give it to Nagini and be done with it."

Harry scowled. He ran his finger gently down the tiny chest and rubbed above the heart.

"Enervate," he whispered, and then rested back on his heels as the feline gave a weak cry. Harry smiled. "Welcome to the world, little one."

After placing the fourth kitten with his mother to feed, Harry pushed up off the floor, stretching his joints to work out the kinks. He brushed the dust off of his trousers.

"I am sorry for the delay, Mr. Riddle. We can resume sitting for another hour or we can just schedule you for your next sitting."

"Do you have an opening tomorrow afternoon?"

"No. I am travelling to Prague tomorrow and will be on holiday for the next eight days. I have the morning free a week from Tuesday. Shall I pencil you in?" Harry sat on the loveseat and pulled his calendar toward him. The pencil was poised above the page. Thomas sat, too closely beside him, pretending to study the available dates.

"You mentioned earlier that your father started Hogwarts knowing he needed to marry a mud...Muggle-born. Were you instructed to find a half-blood? Is that how you came to be bonded to Snape?"

"Ours was an arranged marriage. My father and Severus were actually supposed to bond, but they were and still are totally incompatible. I have known of Severus my entire life, but, because he was brewing potions in India and the Far East, I didn't actually meet him until I was nearly fourteen. We connected over shared interests and corresponded with one another while I apprenticed with Brozik. Our bond was sealed when I turned twenty. I had completed my apprenticeship and Severus was awarded his fifth mastery."

"So what you share is a marriage of convenience. You poor thing." Thomas wrapped his arm around Harry's narrow shoulders and rested his other hand high on Harry's thigh. He felt the muscles tense beneath his fingers. Undeterred, he began to slowly stroke Harry's inner thigh. "I could offer you so much more."

"While I am flattered by your attention, your advances are unwelcome. Please remove your hand, Mr. Riddle. I am in a monogamous relationship and perfectly content to remain so. I bound myself to Severus Snape, not just because of a contract, but because I fell in love with him." Harry stood up, putting distance between himself and the older wizard.

"Under the circumstances, once I return from Prague, we will need to determine whether it is advisable to terminate this commission or if you can continue to work within professional constraints. In the meantime, I will owl you with names of other portrait artists you may wish to consider. Good day, Mr. Riddle."

Thomas' eyes bled red and he could hear his heart pounding in his veins at Harry's polite, but flat, dismissal. How dare he profess to love that homely black crow and reject a superior wizard?

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Thomas stalked out of the studio, the door slamming behind him. Harry looked at the door and then looked at Nagini, who had resumed her place in front of the warm fire.

/So how long do you think it will take him to realize he left you behind?/

/When he needs another egg or a scale. I should be happy I do not have venom sacs./

Even though snakes did not speak with much inflection in their voices, it saddened Harry to know how pitifully she had been treated. He catalogued the potions he knew required serpent-derived ingredients and could not think of a single potion that required reticulated python. Reticulated pythons were muggle snakes, not magical. Thomas could have easily substituted her eggs with those of a common chicken with no difference in the final result. Of course, Harry was not a potions master. He would have to ask Severus if there was some obscure potion that required reticulated python eggs and scales.

Knowing he would be gone for a week at least, Harry began to tidy his workspace. He would need to reschedule his next sitting with Neville, but didn't think the man would mind too much.

Thistle could look after Citron and her kittens. His green eyes drifted toward the python. What was he going to do with her if Riddle did not return for her? He couldn't leave Thistle with a fifteen-foot serpent. Maybe if he fed her first, he could just leave her in the studio until his return. 

Nagini studied the young wizard, wondering what would happen to her if Master did not return. She did not want him to return. She had taken the brunt of his anger on many occasions and did not want her master to hurt the kind speaker.

/Why is Master angry with you?/

/He wanted me for his mate, but I already have a mate./

/Do you have nestlings?/

/Not yet, but we are hopeful we will have them soon./ Harry did want children, but because neither he nor Severus possessed creature blood, they would have to use a surrogate.

"Can I see the kitties?" Elizabeth's portrait asked. She squealed with excitement when Harry set her frame on the floor facing Citron and her basket.

Harry packed away his emulsion and neutralizer potions, setting the cauldrons to soak. He mentally checked off the tasks he needed to complete prior to his journey, but kept his attention split between the tasks at hand and the possible return of Thomas.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Thomas pulled up his hood and wandered deep into Knockturn Alley, hoping to calm his building anger. He cursed a feral cat that crossed his path. He could feel his magics thrum beneath his skin and knew his eyes had to be crimson. He passed an apothecary and ground to a halt when he noticed the preserved body of an adder floating in a glass jar.

Damnation. He had left Nagini behind.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
As Harry was packing away his paintbrushes, the sharp crack of Apparation echoed in his quiet studio. Harry drew his wand at the unwelcome visitor.

"Expelliarmus!" Thomas spat, his red eyes glowing beneath his hood. Harry was knocked off of his feet, his grip tight around his holly wand.

"Protego!" he shouted, shielding himself while regaining his feet.

The two wizards exchanged curses and hexes. Harry was a powerful wizard, but Thomas had the knowledge of obscure Dark spells. He wondered how long it would take someone from Scrivenshaft's to report the disturbance above them and belatedly realized that the shop closed early in the winter months. From the corner of his eye, he could see Nagini undulating across the floor, but didn't know if she was looking to hide or to attack.

Thomas also caught the movement of his python. She was heading toward the mother cat and her kittens.

/Nagini, Eat them!/

Harry jerked, debating whether to hex the wizard or the python. Thomas took advantage of the younger man's indecision.

"Incarcerous."

Harry crashed to the floor, taking the easel and Thomas' partial portrait with him. He heard the crunch of breaking wood. Since the sound was not followed by a stabbing pain, he surmised he had not been impaled. He struggled with the bindings, trying unsuccessfully to free his wand. 

Thomas crouched beside his struggling prey. His lips quirked in a parody of a smile as he plucked Harry's wand from his trapped fingers. The young wizard kicked at him with his bound legs.

"What in the nine levels of Hell do you think you are doing?" Harry hissed as he continued his futile struggle.

Thomas lifted Harry by his rope bindings and leaned into his face. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you, little pet."

He pushed the bound wizard away, watching him collapse, unable to control his fall.

"I could have shown you such pleasure." Thomas circled Harry, watching his fight against the bindings. "Crucio."

Harry gritted his teeth as he convulsed. Pain coursed through his nerve endings, but he would not give Riddle the pleasure of his screams. The Dark wizard cast the Unforgiveable once again, holding the curse a little longer. Harry convulsed again.

Thomas released the bindings as Harry continued to spasm, unable to control his limbs. He hauled the young man from the floor by his collar and flung him forward onto the surface of a partially cleared work table.

"Incarcerous," he cast again. Harry's arms were secured over his head, the ropes bound to the legs of the table. He kicked out with his feet until they, too, were secured. Breathing heavily, Harry struggled against his restraints, the coils cutting into his wrists.

Thomas locked the studio door with a flick of his wand. If Harry was supposed to be in Prague for a week, no one would be looking for him. Thomas admired his prey.

"I am so looking forward to breaking your spirit, my little Light wizard. When I am done with you, not even that miserable excuse for a potioneer will want you."

With a wandless wave from Thomas, Harry's clothing evaporated. His ankles tied to the worktable legs, he was spread wide for Thomas' enjoyment. Thomas ran his cold hands over Harry's arse, admiring the bruising that was already blossoming from his previous attack.

Thomas ran his wand between Harry's arse cheeks, pressing the dry tip into his pucker. Harry inhaled sharply.

"Do you like that, pet?" Thomas reached beneath his wand, caressing Harry's testicles. Harry's cock was flaccid. The older man leaned over Harry's bare back and breathed in his ear.

"I am going to make you enjoy this." Harry flinched as Thomas bit down on his ear lobe. "So beautiful..."

Thomas eased the wand tip in and out, deeper and deeper into Harry's unprepared channel. Harry grunted, but did not cry out. Thomas licked his lips in anticipation. He could feel his own erection hardening. Soon, he thought.

Pulling the wand totally out, he flipped it in his fingers and shoved in the wider handle. Harry screamed, the pain causing his eyes to tear up. The handle was roughly removed and pushed in still deeper in a slow and steady rhythm. Thomas caressed Harry's cock, and with the added anal stimulation, tried to bring him to hardness. Blackness danced at the edges of Harry's vision.

Both the wand and the hands were removed, replaced by a nude Thomas Riddle. Thomas rubbed his cock, slick with pre-cum between Harry's battered cheeks. He felt the hot thickness breach his entrance and then be suddenly jerked out.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Harry struggled to catch his breath. Behind him he could hear a struggle. Heavy bodies hit the back of his legs with enough force to move the heavy work table several inches.

/Speaker, do you still live?/

Harry blinked, bringing his eyes into focus. He twisted his head enough that he could see Nagini's constrictive coils wrapped around Thomas. His struggle weakened as she increased the pressure around his throat.

/Do you want me to kill him?/

/Can you restrain him without killing him?/

Nagini was silent for a minute. /I will try./

/I know you will do your best, but if you have to protect yourself from him, kill him./

Harry tugged at his bindings. He opened his hands.

"Accio wand," he called, clutching both his wand and Riddle's wand in his numb fingers. Carefully, he maneuvered his wand to touch the coil above his wrist. Freeing his arms, he carefully eased his bruised body down the surface of the table until he was able to free his legs. Pain shooting up his spine, Harry held onto the edge of the table on shaking legs, ignoring the blood trickling down the insides of his thighs.

He turned his attention to Nagini and her prisoner and contemplated what to do. He looked around his studio, noticing areas of damage. Beside his shattered easel lay the punctured rough portrait of Thomas Riddle. 

Eying a blank white canvas lying on the floor, Harry levitated it. He settled it against the work table and narrowed his eyes at Thomas.

/Nagini, release him./

The snake uncoiled from her former master and undulated a short distance away. He spelled the clothing back onto the older wizard and waited for the man to become more alert. With a cold smile, Harry pointed his wand directly at the man's chest.

"Ut Excipio A Animus" Harry shouted. Thomas' body began to disintegrate, slowly reappearing within the blank white canvas. He could hear Riddle scream as he pounded against the surface of the canvas. Casting a second spell, Harry prevented the wizard from ever leaving his canvas prison.

Energy waning, Harry folded himself, still naked, into one of the chairs. He had several changes of clothing available in a closet in his studio. Once he gathered his strength, he would decide what to do.

Idly he twirled Thomas' wand with his left hand after wiping it off. He starred at the yew wand. It felt compatible to his own holly wand. He glanced up at the agitated wizard trapped in the gesso-coated linen and smirked. The wand was his by right of conquest. It never hurt to have a second, or even third, wand.

Harry caught a movement in his peripheral vision and turned toward the fireplace. He could see Citron carrying the last of her kittens from her tipped basket to the warmth of the hearth. He looked at Nagini. She looked slowly from the mother cat to him.

/I was not hungry,/ she hissed and slinked toward the warmth of the fire.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Severus unlocked his hotel room door and walked in. The room was not how he had left it hours before. He drew his wand, his satchel dropping quietly to the floor at his feet. In the twilight, he could see the fully clothed body of Harry, asleep on the bed, his dark hair a halo around his head.

Harry was two days early and he did not appear to have brought his trunk. Severus looked down on the heart-shaped face that he loved and knew something was wrong.

"Harry," he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Harry's eyes slowly opened. He smiled sleepily at his husband, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too. You're early."

"Need to talk to you." 

"Where's your trunk?"

"Oh, it's in my pocket." Harry reached into his pocket and handed Severus a miniature trunk. Severus' eyes were drawn not to the trunk, but to the violent bruising around Harry's wrist. He flicked on the lights and examined both of Harry's wrists. Why were there rope burns on his husband's wrists? Severus pulled Harry onto his lap, noticing the flinch.

"How badly hurt are you?"

"Later. Tell me about Thomas Marvolo Riddle. Tell me who Thomas Riddle is to you."

"I haven't seen him in over twenty years. Did he do this to you?"

"He said he taught my parents. He said he taught you. He called you an adorable little boy." Harry curled up against Severus' chest. "You are many things and I love you for most of them, Sev, but you are not adorable. I can't imagine anyone other than your mother using the word adorable to describe you. What is Riddle to you?"

"Thomas Riddle is a predator and may even be insane."

"Inbred bastard," Harry muttered. "He came to me to have a portrait painted, but appeared to be overly interested in me. Once he discovered I was married to you, he seemed to want to drive a wedge between us. He seemed to want to possess me because I belonged to you."

"So he's still collecting trophies." Severus leaned back to lie on the bed. He pulled Harry against him, kissing the top of his head. "He came to teach DADA when I was in third year. I still had a heavy Cokesworth accent then. Riddle convinced Horace Slughorn, who was my head of house, to let him teach me proper diction and to smooth my rough edges. Horace agreed because, although I was brilliant at potions, no one would take me seriously if I looked and sounded like a gutter rat. I initially liked the positive reinforcement he gave me, and the man was charming. He charmed me right out of my virginity.

"It turned out I was not the only student he seduced, but as long as it was only lesser half-bloods and Muggle-borns, the Old Guard looked the other way. Once Horace realized what he was doing, he reported Riddle, and using his numerous contacts, kept going higher and higher up until the Board of Governors dismissed Riddle without references to prevent a scandal. Since Horace felt as if he had let me down, he took me under his wing, helping me secure a prime apprenticeship. Maybe Riddle blames me for his situation."

"He called you a miserable excuse of a potioneer."

"No more stalling. Let me see how badly he hurt you." Severus slowly undressed his bond mate, each bruise making his hatred of Thomas Riddle grow colder. "I'll kill him."

Harry touched the side of Severus' face. "He said he'd make sure you wouldn't want me anymore."

"That is never going to happen." Severus ran his finger lightly up the rope burn circling Harry's left ankle and calf. It didn't take a genius to know Harry had been bound spread-eagle. He leaned down and gently kissed Harry's lips.

"He raped you."  
"He repeatedly shoved his wand inside me, but when he tried to use his cock Nagini attacked him."

"Nagini? Who the hell is Nagini?"

"She's a reticulated python. Used to belong to Riddle, but I guess she's adopted us now." Harry smiled. "She's at least fifteen feet long, so when she wrapped herself around him, he didn't stand much of a chance."

"Did she kill him?"

"No."

"Pity."

"But it allowed me time to gain control of the situation."

"Did you kill him?"

"Not exactly." Harry crept over and resized his trunk, removing a small oil painting. With a flick of his wand, the painting expanded to reveal Thomas Riddle.

"What the..."

"I cast 'Ut Excipio A Animus'."

"Brilliant," Severus said, wrapping his robe around Harry's unclothed body, concealing him from Thomas' view. "Not sure how legal it is."

"That's what I needed to talk to you about." Harry nibbled on his lower lip.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Elizabeth giggled as two kittens climbed over her shoulders and batted her ringlets. Harry wasn't sure if there were rules being broken by adding two-hundred-year-old kittens to a three-hundred-year-old portrait while adding several modern balls of yarn, but Mr. Greengrass waved his concerns away. Astoria and Scorpius were thrilled with the return of the painting to the nursery and that was all that mattered to the old pure-blood.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Severus walked into the bedroom and watched Harry brush out his long hair. He crossed the room and nuzzled at Harry's throat.

"I have finally heard back from one of my associates in Cambodia. Apparently there is an ancient potion that requires reticulated python eggs. It was supposed to grant immortality."

"Immortality?"

"There is no record that anyone ever achieved immortality after ingesting the potion. What is documented is that drinking the potion led to irreversible insanity."

"So Riddle was trying to gain immortality. Well, that explains a few things. If he wasn't insane due to Gaunt inbreeding, he certainly was if he attempted to brew that Cambodian potion."

"It's been months. No one has reported Riddle to be missing. And if they notice he's gone astray, no one will think to connect his disappearance to you."

Harry slid his dressing robe off of his shoulders, letting it pool at his feet. "I'm done talking about that bastard. Come to bed and fuck me."

"Crude," Severus replied as he began to unbutton his robe. Harry was insatiable and he wouldn't have him any other way.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Severus lay awake long after Harry had dropped off to sleep. He blew a long strand of dark hair away from his face and watched the portrait of Thomas Riddle at the foot of their bed. Severus smirked at the glowering wizard, trapped within the gilt frame for eternity. Thomas would be forced to watch Severus make love to Harry and never be able to touch either one of them again.

Severus wordlessly drew a black curtain over the portrait and extinguished the light.

Thomas Riddle had made one very large mistake. He had thought Harry Potter was merely a pretty Light wizard. Like most wizards, he knew nothing about the art of Wizarding Portraiture except for the obvious eye-catching image itself. He did not know that you needed to cast the blackest of magic to imbed a person's personality within a piece of common linen. And now he would have eternity to contemplate that mistake.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
FIN

"Ut Excipio A Animus" roughly translates to "to capture a soul."


End file.
